


The thing that monsters have nightmares about

by coldflashwavebaby



Series: If the apocalypse comes, beep me [3]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mentions of Murder, Past Character Death, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 11:49:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15728820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldflashwavebaby/pseuds/coldflashwavebaby
Summary: Barry panted, looking around at the piles of dust. Why was he so angry? All he could think about was that, a week ago, he’d felt numb and worthless. Now, it was replaced by anger and an almost bloodthirsty fury.He wasn’t sure if it was better or worse, but at least he was feeling something. And it all started when…He tightened his hand around the stake. No. No.





	The thing that monsters have nightmares about

The graveyard was quiet. Almost too quiet. Barry strode confidently through the tombstones, stake in hand, restlessness twitching through his body. Usually, he wrapped up his patrol around midnight, but lately, his dreams woke him uncomfortably in the middle of the night.

 

It’d be different if he were having nightmares—those he could handle; his life was one long nightmare sometimes. No, what kept him awake were dreams of blazing hands against his skin, sharp teeth massaging his neck, heated breath in his ear with dirty whispers…

 

He groaned. It hadn’t even been a week since his badly thought out sexual encounter with Mick Rory, and every time he closed his eyes, he was back against the wall of that alleyway—sometimes grinding against the vampire, sometimes on his knees for him. There was one memorable dream that involved the ripping of clothes to bare skin, before Mick took him completely against the cold brick wall with Barry reduced to nothing but loud moans and panting.

 

He had to change his sheets and wash them himself every night since it happened.

 

No vampires had attacked him for a bounty since the encounter, so there was a positive. But he couldn’t help but wonder when Mick would come poking around him again, this time ready to make good on his threats. But, so far, he’d seen neither hide nor hair of the vamp, which he saw as a win.

 

_ “Barry.” _

 

He nearly jumped out of his skin before he realized the voice came from the ear comm that Cisco had made for contacting him on patrols. He shook his head at his own jumpiness before pressing the comm.

 

“Hey, Jay. What’s going on?”

 

Jay Garrick was his latest Watcher. His original, Dr. Harrison Wells, who was also his physics teacher, was fired after the Watcher Council found out that he had started caring more about Barry and his friends than their mission. Though Wells still lived in Central, Barry hadn’t seen or spoken to him since Jay showed up.

 

Honestly, it was bad enough that he had to face Caitlin after the Killer Frost Incident and Cisco after Dante’s death _.  _ He couldn’t look Wells in the eye when he knew that it was all his fault he lost his job.

 

Besides, Jay wasn’t so bad. He was the new librarian at Central City High, and younger than Wells by about ten, twenty years, but he was brave and true, willing to throw himself into danger to protect Barry just as much as Wells was. His knowledge of history and fighting techniques weren’t as polished, but he knew more about vampires and demons than anyone Barry had ever met.

 

_ “It’s getting late. If you don’t want to head back home, you could swing by the library and read up on some demon lore.” _

 

Barry sighed. It was tempting. But, if he didn’t head home soon, Joe would know he’d been out all night, and it was hard enough getting him onboard with the whole ‘Slayer’ thing without him falling asleep in class for it. “Nah, I think I’ll head back. I have school in the morning, and I need to pass my classes, even if it is senior year.”

 

_ “Alright. I’ll see you in the morning, Barry.” _

 

Barry hummed before clicking off his comm. It was getting harder to balance his personal life and Slayer life. Already, both of his friends weren’t talking to him. He spent most of the time away from his house to avoid worried looks from Iris. Joe had been spending more and more time with Wally, the son he never knew he had, which put a strange rift in their relationship that neither of them wanted, but both were too busy to fix.

  
  


_ “Barry…” Joe’s smile had been genuine, but strained, like he was trapped between laughing and crying. At first, Barry thought it had to do with the Slayer talk they’d had the week before—where Barry and Iris sat him down and explained he was the Slayer, and Joe nearly had an aneurysm—but Joe quickly put his worries to rest. “This isn’t about your…that. There’s something I need to tell you, though.” _

 

_ He motioned Barry to the couch, and they both took a seat. Joe looked nervous. His eyes darted to his hands, to his feet, anywhere but Barry. “Do you remember what I told Iris, about her mother?” _

 

_ Barry’d nodded. “She died right after she was born from complications.” _

 

_ The way Joe’s mouth pulled into a frown, though…the way his brow crinkled, the way he wrung his hands all told a different story. “That’s not what happened, is it?” _

 

_ Joe let out a deep sigh. “No, it isn’t. I already told Iris all of this earlier, so you don’t have to keep it a secret, but I thought you had a right to know, too. You’re a part of this family, even if you don’t think we always see you that way.” _

 

_ Barry tried not to flinch at that. When he and Joe argued about the Slayer, Barry had thrown the fact that Joe wasn’t his real dad back in his face violently and angrily. He still hadn’t apologized. _

 

_ “Iris’ mother…she didn’t die. Well, she did, but it was years later. Ten years ago, actually.” _

 

_ He raised an eyebrow like it was supposed to mean something to Barry. He let it go when whatever it was didn’t click. “Anyway, she was involved in something dangerous—we both were—but when Iris was born, I begged her to give it up. She couldn’t, so I did what I had to do to protect my daughter. I took her and ran. I only saw her one more time after that, at Iris’ fourth birthday party.” _

 

_ There was a silence. This time, the significance of his pause clicked. _

 

_ “Joe…” Barry’s jaw dropped. “Joe, you didn’t.” _

 

_ He laughed loudly as his foster father blushed. _

 

_ “Anyway, I got a call a from some kid. A kid named Wallace West.” _

 

_ At that moment, all the humor bled out of Barry. _

 

_ “Wally is coming by for dinner later this week to get to know all of us,” Joe continued. “He’s excited to meet you and Iris. I just didn’t want you to be blindsided…” _

  
  


Wally had accepted a new sister and father with open arms. A new foster brother who constantly blew them all off, though…let’s just say, they didn’t get off on the right foot. Barry couldn’t blame Wally for shrugging him off and ignoring him whenever he came by.

 

A growl behind him ignited something in his stomach. If he were being honest, he was itching for a fight.

 

When he turned, though, there was nothing there. He frowned. He’d been so sure…

 

The attack came from the side. It wasn’t even a big bad--no, it was a garden variety vamp. But, Barry wasn’t prepared, and suddenly, the vamp was straddling his waist, his arms pinned by his head. Two more vamps appeared on each side. 

 

“And here I thought getting the Slayer would be hard,” the vamp snarled, “but you’re just making it too easy, aren’t you?”

 

Barry threw his knee into the vamp’s crotch, knocking him off. The other two vampires were ready, though. When Barry jumped to his feet, both rushed him, each taking one of his arms and pushing him back until he was slammed against the side of the mausoleum. 

 

The lead vamp limped over, fangs drawn and anger pouring off him in waves. “I was just going to kill you, but now...now I think I might turn you. Imagine that--siring the first Slayer vampire. A Slaympire.” 

Barry resisted the urge to groan at the terrible name. That’s why everyone should leaving naming to Cisco. 

 

The vamp moved in menacingly, and Barry closed his eyes. A million things flashed through his mind--Cisco’s angry looks, Caitlin’s pitying frowns when she thought he wasn’t looking, the sad smile Wells gave him as he gathered his Watchers books to leave, the way Wally rolled his eyes whenever he walked into a room. 

 

Somewhere inside, he wanted to just... _ let go.  _

 

The way Len had kissed him, had held him, right before he murdered him. 

 

Then, something else popped into his head. Fiery eyes. A wicked sneer.  _ I could rip your throat open right now, and you’d just let me, wouldn’t you? _

__

Something replaced that cold numbness. Something burning and painful. Something he’d only felt once since Len’s death. 

 

It burned through him like a tornado of fire, and, once the vamp got close enough, Barry kicked his legs up to wrap around his torso. The vamp seemed shocked, but not as shocked as when he dragged it forward into a headbutt. Using all his strength, he pulled an arm free and struck his fist into the vamp’s face. The other released him in shock, and Barry knocked his head against the wall. 

 

Seeing red, he grabbed the lead vamp by the head and twisted his arms, snapping its neck. He jumped down as the vampire fell and grabbed the stake from his back pocket, driving it into his heart. The other two turned to run as the first vamp turned to dust, but Barry grabbed the one closest and shoved the stake through his back and into his heart. Usually, he would’ve let the other vamp go--he was running scared--but Barry wasn’t feeling that generous. 

 

He took off after him, using one of the headstones to kick off of and tackle the vamp to the ground. Without another word, he dusted him. 

 

Barry panted, looking around at the piles of dust. Why was he so angry? All he could think about was that, a week ago, he’d felt numb and worthless. Now, it was replaced by anger and an almost bloodthirsty fury.

 

He wasn’t sure if it was better or worse, but at least he was feeling  _ something.  _ And it all started when…

 

He tightened his hand around the stake. No.  _ No.  _

 

\----------

Mick Rory had been living at Saints and Sinners for the past few months, ever since he heard about Len’s death. He’d planned, as well as he could, his revenge on the Slayer--siccing every vamp in Central on him until he was too tired to fight anymore and he begged for death. 

 

Then, someone got loose lips and the Slayer was at his front door. He should’ve killed him--damn, the kid was practically begging for it! But then, he was begging for something completely different. Before that night, he’d never understood what Len saw in the Slayer. He probably still didn’t. But he knew what  _ he  _ saw. 

 

He saw a monster, just like any vampire or demon. There were legends about the Slayer, some that said they came from a union between man and demon, creating the fiercest warrior on Earth. Mick never gave a shit about those. Of the Slayers he did kill, he thought they were boring. Beaten down warriors, dedicated to a cause they didn’t really understand. 

 

Barry Allen was different. There was a darkness inside of him, one that drew Mick in. He would’ve made a beautiful vampire, but that would be such a waste. He sipped on his beer, picturing what a horribly gorgeous monster he would make. 

 

The door to the bar swung open. He kept his eyes on the faded marks on the table. He didn’t give a shit who was here. Probably just Mardon bragging about his latest kill. It was a wonder he hadn’t gotten staked yet. 

 

He only raised his head when the visitor plopped down in the booth in front of him. When he realized who was across from him, a smug smirk appeared on Mick’s face.

 

“Well, well. Glutton for punishment. Never had you pegged for the type. Of course, after our little tussle in the alley—”

 

“Shut up, Rory,” Barry Allen snapped. “I need to ask you something.”

 

“Ooo,” Mick leaned back in his seat and chuckled, “do you, now?”

 

He let his eyes trace over the Slayer. He remembered how he’d touched him in the alleyway, the way he’d let him slam him against the wall, how he arched and moaned beneath him. If the way Barry shivered meant anything, he was picturing the same thing.

 

“You’ve killed Slayers before, right? The Watcher records say that you’ve killed two.”

 

Mick’s smug grin faltered, but he nodded.

 

Barry swallowed hard. “How?”

 

Mick blinked. “Damn. Didn’t expect that.” He took another drink of his beer. “Well, Lenny was the first to tell me about Slayers. He thought they were interesting—always wanted to kill one himself. Thought they were ‘a challenge worthy of his skill’ or some garbage like that. Anyway, after he got his soul, he took Lisa and left me behind. Even called me a vicious monster ‘cuz I enjoy killing.

 

“I was on my own for a few months, having my fun in Paris, when the first Slayer caught up to me.” He chuckled to himself. “Damn, she was gorgeous. It was almost a shame to rip her to pieces. But, you see, here’s the thing with you Slayers—you kill vampires, demons, werewolves, whatever the hell decides to stick out its ugly head, and most of the time, you win. But, all it takes is one lucky shot, one bad day, and then one of us is standing over you, questioning how long they want to draw out killing you.”

 

In the end, she’d been a disappointment to Mick. Just another victim who cried and begged for her life.

 

Barry looked nauseous. “What about the other one?”

 

Mick shrugged. “That was more recent—1980-ish. She was probably your age, maybe older. Name was Jennifer something. Had been the Slayer for a couple’a years. I killed her in Hub City, in the bathroom of a nightclub. She thought she could catch me off guard by trying to convince me she was some sorority girl looking to hook up.”

 

He remembered her. Blonde, young, beautiful. There was something in her eyes that Mick liked, but it was nothing like the fire in Barry’s.

 

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re kinda like her. Quick, smart, kick-ass,  _ great ass, _ ” he gave Barry a wink, and the Slayer rolled his eyes, “She almost had me a few times. But she was tired. I could tell—tired of the loneliness and sacrifices. She  _ wanted  _ me to kill her, and I did.”

 

Mick stared at Barry, wondering why the Slayer cared. Then, it hit him. He wanted to die. Deep down, he was as suicidal as that last Slayer, only there was something inside him that wanted to take down as many vamps with him as possible. He could respect that. 

 

Barry moved to go, but Mick snatched his wrist, stopping him. “That last one? In the end, she begged me to kill her. Not because I tortured her, but because she couldn’t keep on. Your friends, your little foster family, your Watcher—they’ve protected you, kept you from getting yourself killed. It won’t always be that way. And on that day, I’ll be there, just like I was for her. I’ll lean over that tight little body of yours, and you’ll scream for me, beg me to finish you. And believe me, Doll,” he stroked a finger down the back of Barry’s hand, “I won’t even hesitate.”

 

Mick grinned wildly as Barry snatched his arm away. “Say that it happens,” he replied coldly. “Say that the day comes when I finally give up and let this life finally drag me down. I promise you—it won’t be you. It’ll  _ never  _ be you.”

 

With that, he turned to storm out of the bar, the burn of the vampire’s stare still hot on his back.

 

“Sure it won’t, Doll.” He smirked and shook his head. “Sure it won’t.” 

 

\----------

 

Once he was outside, Barry couldn’t resist his shudders of disgust anymore. The way Mick talked about murdering them…it was like the way people discuss their sexual conquests. He was proud of it. How could he have had sex with that man?

 

He made his way back home, not sure why Mick Rory was the only person who made him feel something, even if it was disgust and hate. He shook it off--he needed to focus on the task at hand. That’s what Wells always said. 

 

He walked through the front door of the West House, only to find Wally waiting for him. He froze. He’d expected Joe or Iris to be the ones waiting, if anyone. 

 

“Hey, Wally.”

 

Wally scoffed. “Really? That’s it? After Iris and Dad stayed up all night worrying about you? Yeah, they pretended like they weren’t, but I can tell. Man, do you even care?”

 

“Of course I care!” he yelled. Wally flinched back, but Barry was already worked up from his conversation with Mick. “You think I  _ like  _ making people around me miserable? You think I  _ choose _ to go out late and make the people I love worry about me? I would  _ love  _ to stay home, eat dinner with them, and watch Netflix. But people don’t always get what they want, Wally!” 

 

Wally stared wide-eyed at him, while Barry shook in place, anger and frustration taking over. The light at the top of the stairs flicked on, and Joe stepped onto the landing. 

 

“Barry? Wally? What the hell’s going on down here?”

 

Wally opened his mouth to say something, but Barry sighed. “Nothing, Joe. It’s fine. I’m going to head to bed.” He ran up the stairs, two at a time, finally locking himself in his room. Then, he was able to finally break down. 


End file.
